Rebellatis
by BanoffeePiper
Summary: Annabeth Chase swore to avenge those who died in the arena. Together with Thalia, her old friend with a secret, and Zoe, who's sister died too, they sacrifice everything they had. They tried. After all, they had nothing else to loose. PJO/Hunger Games. Sequel to 'Inevitable'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: THIS IS A SEQUEL. You will understand this better if you read my first story,** _ **Inevitable**_ **. Available on my works, and has a red-and-black cover. But you don't necessarily need to read that first.**

 **If you've already read Inevitable... Welcome back!**

 **PJO/Hunger Games crossover. Formers' characters with the latters' setting.**

 **Happy reading!**

 **ChrystallineCD**

 **POV: Thalia Grace**

When I was fifteen years old, I abandoned my brother.

It haunts me every day.

My mother had left me in the house, taking Jason out to visit one of her friends. I was perched in the most comfortable place in the whole place - Mother's bed. Little blades of grass stolen from the base of the fence had plaited themselves into little mats as I worked, wriggling on the dirty bedsheet, my tongue sticking out into the dusty air.

At first, I had dismissed the shuffling sound I heard as Hanna Mirche and her large family next door. They were always up to _something_ , after all. But it was only as it came closer that I put the grass down and looked up.

And I had seen a woman looking at me, her reddish-auburn hair dull in the twilight, but her green eyes were fixed on me with an incredible intensity.

I hadn't screamed.

And from the first word, Artemis had captured me in the idea of setting everyone free. She told tales of successful Capitol spies. A training base in District two. The only problems would be getting me out of here, and the simple way she said it made it hardly feel like a problem. A harmless smoke bomb set off in school, a bit of red juice thrown about, and me smuggled out of here.

Thalia Grace would be no more.

And I agreed. How was I not to? Artemis had come specially for me, after hearing about that little disturbance I made last autumn, when I found a camera. The league had sought me out, and so here I was. It was a once-in-a-lifetime-chance.

To the authorities, Thalia Grace had died a week later, after a hot coal set the north classroom on fire at school. Half the building was burned, but there were no other casualties. A sad story. People comforted my mother, and gave my brother bits of leftover food when they had it.

I soon faded out of memory. Meanwhile, another member of the Rebellatis in District two gained a new child, Thalia Arcas.

Callisto was, and always has been a lovely mother to me and my 'sisters', Zoe, Bianca and Phoebe. Zoe had came from District eight, picked for her stand-offish manner and tendency to disobey rules. Phoebe was a red-headed girl from ten. Bianca was from 6, a dark-haired, shy girl who had wanted a second chance. Callisto would send us off to training in the mornings with prettily packed lunches of meat sandwiches, and maybe even a sweet or two if she could afford it. She wasn't married, but she gave around the story that she took in certain abandoned children. No-one argued - not even the peacekeepers. She was the sort of person that you simply trusted.

Two was brilliant. We learned to fight. We learned how to duel with swords, throw knives, and fire arrows from sleek, wooden bows. We knew from our early lives how to scrimp and save on food. For the first year, we were fine.

Then Bianca got chosen for the Games. Artemis, on one of her many visits, had said that we had all the proper papers here and everything. It hadn't dawned on us that citizenship of a district meant that you then had to _fight_ for them.

Well, after she died, we got all too painfully aware.

Another girl called Celyn joined us a few months later - a perky girl from eleven. But it didn't really matter too much. Me and Zoe would be moving to the Capitol in a years time, disguised again into a different family, with our school marks changed by members of the Rebellatis and a job where the cameras showing the highest Capitol members were in easy reach.

But a month before I had to go, just before a freak explosion in our area killed me, my comrades, and was _actually_ planned to kill a suspected Capitol spy, as my hair was cut, tattoos were marked out on me, and a wardrobe of silly stuff was bought, my friend Annabeth entered the Games. They took pity on me and put the date back a few months.

But it wasn't just her.

My little brother, Jason, went in. Bianca's brother Nico. Zoe's sister Calypso. Reyna too, the sister of a girl who had recently gone up into the Capitol - Hylla. They all died. It was easily the most brutal one I had ever seen.

Annabeth won.

It broke me.

And now, my time out is spent. I'm being loaded onto a train tomorrow. Zoe and Annabeth are coming with me. We are just going through our 'final stages' - Zoe's dark purple skin wants touched up, Annabeth needs a few more lessons on Capitol-style make-up, we all need to learn to put the blasted things they call _clothes,_ on properly, and my deep blue tattoos need to be darker. But when the final preparations are done, three pink-wigged sisters will be riding the gem train into the Capitol. Our papers are already online; we're registered as Virgo, Indira and Liszy, the daughters of a couple who work for the Rebellatis, but have spy jobs as head cook and secretary in the Presidents Mansion. They're like Callisto, non-fighters, but still doing something.

The security guards will let us through, as apparently, our mother paid a lot of money to send us to District four, for Liszy's bad health. They are obliged to let people so rich cross the borders at any time.

It can't go wrong.

We are too fuelled up now. The Capitol killed our family and friends, and now we will help bring them down.


	2. Chapter 2

Annabeth is sweating slightly, squashed up against the cold iron walls . Zoe is tapping her fingers and staring out the window and into the dark. Me - I'm silent, trying to hold onto as much of myself as is possible right now. Indira Rocha is taking over my appearance, my personality and even my head. It's becoming easier and easier to giggle like an idiot and bleat about jewellery and clothes, even when we are alone. Still, that what we were taught - act as much like a Capitol Girl as we could. Slip-ups could mean that the rebellion is over.

The train is dark now - lights aren't need for cargo. The guards set up small mattresses and blankets, but that's all we got, apart from warnings about not touching anything. The Capitol have programmed the boxes to sense when unauthorised people touch them, and if you do, hidden guns will not hesitate to shoot you.

The dark train chugs on. At this speed, we'll be in the Capitol by morning.

Sure enough, when we awake, the train has only just stopped. More white-suited Peacekeepers open the doors and escort our sleepy, blinking selves out into the brightly-lit, white marble building. Machines get to work behind us, hungrily eating up the boxes of jewels that the workers hurry to load onto long, moving surfaces. A cold wind starts to blow through the grand open doors.

The Peacekeeper with us takes one look at our disheveled appearances and points us in the direction of the bathrooms. We pretend to be thankful and try our best to sort out our wigs and re-apply the make-up that we've all managed to smear everywhere. I suppose a proper Capitol girl would change her clothes, but we had enough problems getting these on, so we just smooth them out and head back outside.

Now we look more presentable, the Peacekeepers take us towards the doors and begin to check our identity's and papers. We are scrutinised, compared with many different photos, have the inside of our cheeks dabbed at with strange soft brushes and our fingerprints are taken. We all hold our breath when we press our fingers into the smooth gel of the scanner, but Artemis did her job right. Indira, Virgo and Liszy are lead out to a waiting silver carriage, where our 'mother', Perse, a woman I recognise from a picture, sits waiting.

Just looking at her sitting in a decedent dress on a soft blue seat, there is no way you could ever say she wasn't a Capitol citizen. Her make-up is perfect, her wig curly and jade green. She steps lightly down from her velvet sofa, delicate dark-blue heels gleaming in the sunlight and envelopes us all in a refined hug.

"Liszy!" She pipes up, her voice betraying nothing. "Indira! Virgo! My girls!"

Perse nods to the Peacekeepers and they walk back towards the train. She leads all up to the carriage, still chattering about the new kitchen suite she got and how she's got the cook to make our favourite meal back home. I'm amazed how a woman who's never met us can act so perfectly. Anyone would believe that she was our mother. The driver nods to her respectfully and drives off.

She keeps it up all the way into the very centre of the Capitol, where her house must be. None of us have to say much, which is thankful because we'd probably contradict something she's already said - about 'our' favourite dresses and foods and suchlike.

When we arrive at her ground-floor apartment, I'm taken back by how utterly _Capitol_ it is. It's a fairly big one, on a terrace, with only two others on top of it, made of orange bricks with white balconies and a dark blue front door. Perse ushers us up the blue garden path, past the fake pink flowers growing in the garden, and presses her finger onto a little sensor on the front door before letting us all in.

The minute the front door closes, Perse snaps out of it.

"Hello girls! I'm so glad to meet you! Thalia, Zoe and Annabeth, right?"

We nod mutely, wondering what the proper etiquette for entering a Capitol home is.

"No need to be shy! Come on, let's go to the back room and you can introduce yourselves!"

We kick off our heels and follow her, amazed at the extravagance of the place. We thought 2 was fancy, but it's _nothing_ compared to this. This is... Crazy. It's diabolical.

The three of us sit awkwardly, side by side on a huge white silk sofa. Perse settles herself in a huge armchair by the corner and looks over at us, her green hair curling around her ears.

"When you're ready! Please don't feel shy!"

"Umm..." Annabeth starts. "I'm Annabeth, I'm seventeen, I'm from 2..."

She falters, but Perse nods enthusiastically at her.

"I won the Games last year." She continues, her voice quiet in the huge room. "The Capitol think I'm dead from a anti-Capitol attack on Victors Village."

Her voice gains a little more strength.

"My fake name is Liszy Rocha, I'm good with a knife, and I want the Capitol to go down."

Perse applauds her, the sound ringing off to the green, silk-papered walls.

"Hello Liszy! So you're the oldest then?"

"Yeah." Annabeth replies, obviously feeling more at home.

"Taste in dresses? Favourite colours? Hairstyles?" Our mother presses.

"Umm... I always had quite long hair, I like grey, silver and blue, and... I'm not really sure."

Apparently satisfied, our secret rebel mother starts gently probing me and Zoe for information. When she'd finished, she stood up.

"Now, girls, let's go have a little tour of the house, and then I'll teach you a little on how to behave here."

She smiles happily at us.

"And once you're settled in, I'll give you your briefing from Artemis. It's important you start soon!"

 _Yes. The mission. Don't lose sight of it in all thi_ s.

We all troop up the pink-carpeted stairs, marvelling at the sight at the top.  
_

Me, Zoe and Annabeth all have our own rooms. Each one is papered in expensive fabrics, with massive spacious wardrobes and closets and vanities everywhere. ("A typical teenage girl's room here!"). Our names are painted in beautiful patterns across the walls. The bathroom we are to use is huge - there are strange different baths with jets of water that shoot at you, and everything is voice - activated. We have access to everything we could ever want. The whole thing is just so horribly incredible.

Perse is trying her very hardest to make us seem at home. After all, the sooner we adapt to the Capitol, the sooner we can go out and help destroy it. But it is nice to have someone who will protect us and help us whilst we're at it. And we still have to meet Perse's husband, our father Actaeon.

I can feel the rebellion bubbling up. I'm here, it's real. And the Capitol are going down.


	3. Chapter 3

It's only the next day when our briefings come through. We wake up disorientated, afloat in a world of metallic-sparkled wallpaper and the cloying scent of heavy floral perfume. The first thing we do is stumble into each other's rooms - the first day in the Capitol can't be faced alone. We dress together, helping each other with the ridiculous, skinny clothes and applying thick globs of make-up to each other's faces.

Annabeth went for bright - her dress is a striking gold and her hair a long, luscious green. She's clearly uncomfortable in it, but really quite convincing. Zoe, the reserved one, has opted to stay as simple as she can - a dark gown tied at the waist like a warrior queen. That style's quite popular amongst winners of the Games. And me, I'm staying as close to normal as possible. Green shirt, brown skirt, I still look a little like Thalia Grace. And I want to keep it that way, even though I barely recognise myself or the others.  
Perse has been up for hours, so we take one final look in the mirrors, making sure we look convincing enough, then make our way down the pink spiral staircase to her breakfast room.

She's there, sat with her husband Actaeon, grinning up at us as we come in.

"Hello girls! Oh I do _love_ that hair Litzy! And your dress, Virgo! Now, come and sit down! You just press the little blue buttons to order breakfast and one of maids will send up to over yonder!"

She points at a small pink chute emerging from the work surface on the back wall, then gestures to the four empty yellow seats along each side of the table. We slide in, Annabeth and me on the right, Zoe on the left and mumble our orders into the speakers.

Actaeon gives us all a faint smile. We smile back, wanting to give him as good an impression as we can. After all, these two, our 'parents', are the ones we're depending on. I don't think I really like him much, Actaeon, with his overly styled, pale blonde hair, cold, sticky brown eyes and overly flamboyant sparkled suit. His face isn't cliche-ly rat-like or anything, he's quite normally proportioned like that - his face is trustworthy, but it's the way he looks at us down his nose, like we're intruding on something terribly, terribly important.

We struggle our way through breakfast, making polite conversation, shuffling nervously in the red-and-gold velvet chairs and slurping our way through bowls of strange, sugary soups. Afterwards, we leave our empty bowls and cups on the table for one of the maids and follow Perse into her back room, whilst Actaeon heads out to work, his appearance obviously worked hard on, even though he works as a cook.

I scowled at his back as he went out the door. I know he works for the Rebellatis, but this house is the one safe place where we can talk. He doesn't have to act.

"So!" chirps Perse, scanning the sheet of paper in her hand and brushing the locks of sparkly silver curls off her shoulder. "It says here that we're enrolling you in one of the top schools in the Capitol, with a few targets we want you to get close to."

"Will that work?" asks Annabeth, puzzled. "They don't have any records of us being at school before, and no-one knows us..."

"Homeschooling" Perse interrupts, settling herself down further into her chair. "One of the maids - a girl we can account for - has been homeschooling you all your lives, but now we think you're of an age where you need a more _social_ life. So school it is!"

I grin unintentionally. "Brilliant. Who's the target?"

"Target _s_." Perse corrects me. "Two sisters and a brother, the children of one of Snow's right-hand men. We need some little surprises planted on their father, but you just need to get to know them first." She pulls out three sleek black files from a large pile on her coffee table. "There's one in your year, Litzy."

She hands Annabeth the top file, the name 'Devinelle Fay' stamped across the front, alongside a picture of a tall girl with huge stick-on eyelashes and one of the brightest wigs know to mankind perched on her oval-shaped head. Annabeth looked at the picture, wrinkled her nose and began to read.

"And one in yours." She offers a second file to me and Zoe. This one's the other girl, an equally tall and skinny one by the name of September. Apparently she like chatting, dancing and shopping. She'll be fun to get to know.

"And then there's the boy, he's a few years older than Litzy. I've heard of this one too, and I'd be careful if I were you."

She offers the final file around, and since Zoe's holding September's, I hesitantly reach out for it. He's Gabriel, and he suits it. Unlike Actaeon, who's all sequins and hairspray, Gabriel seems to favour a sweeter, more natural look.

"Yeah, I know." Perse's looking at me pityingly. "That's what they all look like when they see him. He's know for luring girls in." She gives us all a meaningful look before standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her long skirt.

"Study those files throughly girls, especially you Indira, if you're going with Gabriel. We only really need one of you to get inside their house, but that doesn't mean that if one of you is getting somewhere that the others can slack! This is terribly important to getting into Snow's ranks - if you can gain a trusted place in his advisors house, we can pack a great punch into Snow's government!"

And with that, she flounces out, smiling, leaving us to settle down on the comfy velvety sofas and read up on our new friends.


	4. Chapter 4

We spent the next three weeks preparing for school.

Perse took us out to buy clothes, bags, books, gadgets, make-up and everything else under the sun. We spend days trekking around fancy little shops, talking to strange people and trying on endless streams of school-suitable clothing. We rush around, being busy-busy-busy until there is literally nothing else to do, and school is only a week away.

That's when we start pouring over those folders again. We share the information in them, telling each other over and over so as to consolidate it totally in our minds. Annabeth's Devinelle likes jewellery and sparkly clothes, she takes classes in etiquette, dancing and ladylike skills (how to treat maids, how to dress for different occasions). Zoe's September is a lot similar to her sister - she likes dressing up and wearing make-up. Except she isn't a big dancer, she's more into clothes and fashion design.

And then there's Gabriel. He likes girls, fashion, sports and girls. In all the pictures Rebellatis has managed to get of him, there's some bright-haired bimbo dangling off one of his arms. I'll be taking the same classes as the majority of these girls - silly things like his sisters take.

Later that day, Perse hands us our timetables and we leaf through them, matching them to the folders. Annabeth's is almost exactly the same as Devinelle's, but without the dancing. Instead, she has free periods in which to go watch the dancing (allowed and advised!) and Zoe's only changes to have modelling instead of fashion-design, as the two groups work together. And mine, I have no lessons with Gabriel. He's three years older than me for a start. So Perse has signed me up for those lessons similar to Annabeth and Zoe's - ones that are swamped brain-dead socialite ladies-to-be of the Capitol.

I eventually stop looking obsessively over the timetable and stare at the blue velvet wall of my bedroom, hugging the file close to my chest.

I want to do this. I want to help. I want equality for the districts.

And equality I will get.

6 AM on our first day sees us up and awake. We get pushed from room to room, with Perse instructing the maids on what to do with our hair, how to apply our makeup and what clothes to dress us in. The next two hours is a whirl of colour and pain as we are pulled at, plucked, and squeezed in at the waists.

I'm sure we look as hideous as everyone else, but there's barely time to say goodbye to Perse, let alone look in a mirror, before our shoes are strapped on and we're rushed out the door and into another carriage.

We didn't even get time for breakfast.

We sit in nervous silence as the carriage trundles along over smooth blue roads. I've never been to a proper school before - school in 5 wasn't compulsory and school in 2 was all about training for the Games.

This is scary. This is so real. This is something I've always wanted to do - to stop the reign of the Capitol.

And now it's starting to happen.

Annabeth and Zoe look as scared as me, both adorned in feathers and plenty of pink accessories as the fashion dictates. We sit, silent as the carriage rolls closer and closer to our mission.

This is scary.

But this is happening.

I see the gates of the school, great golden things, loom up ahead, the words 'Central Capitol Academy' curling around them like snakes. We step out, daintily holding our sweeping net skirts up off the ground. Lots of other girls are doing the same thing up and down the road around us, keeping them held as they scurry down the road and through the entrance. We follow them, not bothering to wave goodbye to the sullen coat-driver.

Before we can even mentally prepare ourselves, the swarm of students sweep us up in a great powder-and-perfume smelling bunch. We rush through the entrance with the bunch, tripping over long silken dresses and stout leather shoes. They lead us down a long gravel path with beautiful huge trees on either side, until we finally reach the yard and everyone disperses quickly.

I grab Annabeth, who looks dazed beside me, and after some looking around, we spot Zoe leaning against a tree a dozen metres off, looking equally confused and scared. We re-group, standing on the large, gradient blue yard, longing on the buttercup yellow walls of the school where the other students flirt and catch up. We use the time to give a pep talk.

"Virgo, Liszy." I start. "Today marks the beginning of the end for the Capitol. It is all down to us now. We get to know these people, we need to work our way into their houses and follow out whatever plan Artemis and Perse have in store for us. This will be the most important thing we ever do in our lives, so we need to make sure we do everything in our power to succeed. We need to stop the Games." Here I see Annabeth's eyes flash. "We need to stop the control." Zoe clenched her fists. "We are going to stop the Capitol."


	5. Chapter 5

The days turn into weeks, weeks into months. We spend our time endlessly prying, poking and gossiping like these stupid Capitol girls in order to get our work done. Devinelle and September were relatively easy to get close to, and Gabriel is coming along nicely.

But something is off.

We're gaining information - everything's coming on well in that respect. But we haven't heard from Artemis in forever and Perse has been very vague as to why. We're all very worried that something is up, so we're working harder and harder at our targets.

But although the work seems to be calming Annabeth and Zoe, it's not convincing me. I'm worried that the Capitol is onto us in some way, that Artemis has been captured and Perse and her husband are at risk. Although I hate the Capitol with a burning rage, it also scares me. I can only dream of what they could do to us if we're caught.

After all, it is innocents subjected to the Games.

But I soldier on, making friends with Gabriel's girlfriends, squeezing them for information about his family life. They never know much but I'm slowly getting a picture together.

Annabeth and Zoë have already been over to Devinelle and September's house, been shopping with them and even slept over. It doesn't tell us much though. Getting information about their father isn't easy but word spreads easily here, at least.

It's a few weeks later, and the whole Capitol is buzzing about the approaching Games. Is sick, the way we have to pretend like this is all fun. Annabeth is here because of her experiences in there, and me and Zoë both lost siblings to the Games. I start to think that maybe it's that that seems off - Artemis must be getting ready to mentor another pair of district children. Maybe there's nothing in it.

But as the weeks progress, and the Games start, I start to get really scared.

It's not the Games - they just make me feel sick. This time it's a desert and the suffering is making me scream.

It's Perse.

When we first came, we trusted her implicitly. We had to - we were under Artemis's orders. But I've realised that some things don't quite add up here now. It's little things, like her impeccable Capitol attitude and her habit of leaving us as alone as much as possible. She never breaks character to help us out apart from when Artemis sent her briefings at the beginning, and those have tailed off now, even the progress reports.

Her husband's another thing - we were told he was a cook at the President's Mansion. Yet we have never seen him anything but pristine and smelling of perfume, and certainly not cooking. He barely talks to us, and when he does his voice is scratchy and low, as though his throat is injured. Annabeth and Zoë don't seem to be finding anything strange with our hosts, even now.

Because as the Games started, both of them seemed to get very excited. They have been watching them non-stop, glaring when we interrupt. I understand that keeping character is important, but falling asleep in front of the screen because they were up late watching the Games is excessive. And very very nerve wracking. They seem to be enjoying it, cheering as people die.

It's scaring me, and I need answers


	6. Chapter 6

It's October before we get our next briefing. Perse told us that the Capitol had been prying too hard into Rebellatis's affairs for Artemis to contact us again. I say nothing, and the other two believe her.

I still haven't told Annabeth and Zoë about my suspicions in fear of being overheard. If Perse is indeed not who she says she is, then we need to stay peacefully oblivious, lest she suspects us. It's almost physically hurting me not to scream them from the top of my lungs and run.

But I would have nowhere to run. My baby brother was taken by the Games and I haven't heard from my mother in years. And anyway, Artemis is depending on us.

Artemis tells us that all the information they have from us now is enough. We are to embark on our first proper mission - the young President Snow will be at our new friends' house for a banquet this time next week. Rebellatis want us to get as many remote-controlled bombs into the place as possible so that they can stage an attack.

Perse and her husband give us the packages Artemis sent us. We have many, many of these bombs each. Some small enough to fit in a handbag, some stuffed into suitcases, and a a few that are the suitcases. Apparently the plan is a sleepover, with these as our luggage. Then, the next day at the banquet - boom.

So we spend the week shrilly organising this little gathering. September and Devinelle are only too happy to invite the three of us, plus many many more that we have gotten to know over the past months. They twitter on about how exciting it will be, and how good the idea was.

They make me sick.

The week progresses, and with it our anxiety builds. Soon the three of us, plus Perse and her husband will be on another supply train, this time into district 3. We are supposed to be 'going on holiday' as the rich occasionally do, before disappearing in yet another freak accident and being assigned elsewhere. It's crazy to think that by this time next week, I'll either be rotting in a Capitol jail cell or no longer Indira Rocha, the Capitol girl.

We set out to their gathering with our hearts in our throats, dragging three suitcases each (the norm here). One is a suitcase bomb, another a bomb in a suitcase and the third packed full of the things we will need. The plan is for us to use the cover of night-time to stuff the 6 armed suitcases into nooks in the dining room. They are made of camouflage fabric that blends in with the background to make it a little easier for us. The small explosives we carry will be taped under the dining table. Everything is organised. Our plan is flawless.

We can only hope it doesn't go wrong.

We spend the evening chatting about as much stupid stuff as we can muster. We get our hair done, dressed up as various silly characters and as much food as we could possibly eat. We eat sparingly, knowing that too much could be coming up later.

By the time everyone finally calms down and all us guests start flocking out to our guest rooms, we are bags of nerves. Annabeth is quaking, Zoe's lips are bleeding from her anxious biting. My stomach is turning flips. We quickly dump the poofy pastel dresses and loud, stampy shoes, opting to go for our pre-packed loose black pants and t-shirt. We slowly wheel the suitcases out, bringing our full-to-the-brim handbags too. My natural spiky black locks peep out in public for the first time in ages.

Well-oiled wheels don't even whisper as we sneak down the oak-wood corridors, round dark imposing corners and past many, many silent rooms. Maybe tomorrow this place will be full of life as the banquet carries on well into the night. Or maybe it's end will come early, and where we are now will be nothing but ash and sorrow. I find that I don't really want to think about it.

The doors into the dining hall are massive - tall, thin and jet black. We quickly oil the rusty-looking hinges down before slowly, carefully, opening the doors.

We hear a little click behind us as they shut.

The dining room here is the biggest single room I have ever seen. It had black wooden walls and a matching floor. Drab chandeliers, tens of the them, line the ceiling, directly above a pure white marble table big enough to seat at least one hundred people.

At least hiding the suitcases will be easy.

We get to work, Annabeth's blonde hair sticking to her face in our panic. We get them about equal lengths apart , resting them on the walls, then begin to stick on our smaller grenades under the table. It's horrible - we're all sweating with worry, and at any minute we could be found. I'm going to ask Artemis to stick me on something less hands-on when I next see her.

And that's when it happens.

As soon as the last bit of tape is in place, red lights flash on all around the room. We almost scream, thinking that they've caught us in the act, until we realise that it's the bombs.

"They weren't supposed to activate until tomorrow." I whisper.

"They've been activated?" Zoë has terror on her face.

"Perse." I say.

Annabeth has her eyes closed.

Walls of flame erupt all around us.

We have failed in our mission.


	7. Epilogue

In a comfortable sitting room, in a large house in the Capitol centre, a woman who called herself Perse pressed a button.

She did not hear the effects of her pressing this button, but she felt them in her heart.

It felt good.

Rhosyn Rocha, for that was her actual name, settled herself more comfortably into the edge of the sofa. Only two years it had taken her to undermine this silly little rebellion.

It was all my sisters fault for getting involved. She thought to herself, fiddling with a bracelet. If Perse had only known how stupid she was. Then, I'm gonna get a prize for this. Money? She cackled to herself, all thoughts of her sister aside. You could never have enough money.

Maybe a little history may be helpful at this point.

Perse and Rhosyn Rocha were two of seven sisters born to Mr and Mrs Rocha in the Capitol. Perse and the other 5 sister grew up to be beautiful, helpful, kind girls who never really fitted into Capitol life. They got lovely husbands and proceeded to go onto have lovely, kind children. Perse even proceeded to go on and join a rebellion group against the Capitol.

Rhosyn Rocha grew up to be beautiful, greedy and unpleasant. She took delight in stomping on people's hopes and dreams and made sure no-one went uninsulted. She was very good at eavesdropping on people's private conversations though. In fact it got her far in later years.

So when Rhosyn had found out about Perse's involvement in this Rebellatis group, her first move was to find her sister and put a bullet through her brain. Her second move was to think of a plan. And her plan was perfect. Her third move was to place a strong pair of hands around Perse's husbands throat, destroying his lovely, calm voice and replacing it with the a new rasp. A few threats and weeks later and their marriage was official. And so was Rhosyn's name change.

And so Perse had reported in for duty.

The Rhosyn of the present took a minute to congratulate herself. After all, it was not such a monumental occasion every day. Her husband wandered downstairs, his soft eyes full of fragmented hope. She'd enjoyed getting him to terrorise those three little girls. After all, he did anything she wanted him to to because his children were on the line.

And so as she didn't need him anymore, she killed him.

His eyes lost focus and he hit the floor with a thump. Rhosyn placed her gun on the coffee table and turned the TV on. She'd go to the President tomorrow, when they asked for information.

But for now, she was very content just to watch.


End file.
